Undercurrents
by coopers muse
Summary: AU.The Fuhrer is out of control.Alchemy is punishable by death.The people of Amestris are prisoners.What if Roy decided to take a more direct stand against the Fuhrer?A rebellion is brewing and Roy’s in charge-or will be soon. Eventually EdxRoy
1. Chapter 1

Undercurrents

**Undercurrents**

AU. The Fuhrer is out of control. Alchemy is punishable by death. Checkpoints are everywhere; the people of Amestris are prisoners. And Roy Mustang dose not approve. What if Roy decided to take a more direct stand against the Fuhrer? A rebellion is brewing and Roy's in charge-or will be soon. Eventually EdxRoy

A/N: This idea just took over my head so here I am letting it have free reign. Lets see how it goes shall we?

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA D':

**Chapter One:**

It was days like these, Roy thought as Hawkeye dropped another pile of papers on his desk, that he wondered why he had accepted his promotion.

Sure his ambitions to become Fuhrer and turn the state around were fair enough reasons…but on days like these he had to wonder.

Was this all really necessary? He had other plans in place…rather large ones at that-and yet here he was, stuck behind a desk amid the towers of awaiting forms that needed his signature. Playing some mindless laky, pretending to be another of the Fuhrer faithful show dogs. Roy let his amusement bubble behind his loyal mask, if only the Fuhrer knew of his traitorous thoughts. Eventually the man would of course… he planned to let the Fuhrer become very well acquainted with his gloves, his ideals, and a nice little cell. Because of course, Roy Mustangs plans were unfolding.

But unfortunately not fast enough to avoid paperwork.

Roy sighed and dropped his pen-rubbing at his cramping hand as he looked up at his unofficial secretary.

"Please tell me this is the last one?" he asked, shaking out his hand as he glared at the paperwork which had caused his pain.

He saw Hawkeyes mouth twitch for a moment and let himself smile-she was amused, that was a feat in itself that one should be proud of. But his smile slipped quickly- that was never good news for him.

"Just how many more piles are there?" he asked resignedly, bracing himself for the inevitable. He wondered absently just how late he would be forced to stay in. Two hours? Three? So far the worst had been five, but that had been caused by the Rebellion Factions slip at Central Station. He groaned internally at the memory.

For the love of the State-were all of his men bumbling fools? Was it really that hard to keep a shipment of artillery inside its shipment box?! All they'd needed to do was get the crate of 'car parts' past the checkpoint and everything would have been fine. The only reason he hadn't deemed the failure a complete _disaster, _was that all of his men had gotten away. Though the guns where all now under Amestris control. Roy reminded himself that he'd have set up another meeting with his dealer-they needed those guns.

"Lieutenant Colonel Sir?" Roy jumped in his seat and looked up at Hawkeye, cringing.

"Sorry Lieutenant-you were saying?"

The woman looked like she was trying to refrain from rolling her eyes.

"Only one more pile sir, and Brigadier General Grand's secretary said it would not be ready for a least an hour" she repeated. Roy nodded his head, stretching his arms as he looked to his window.

Central was abuzz with people and lights despite the late hour. With dusk long past and night firmly in place, the cities occupants seemed to have been left behind. He could still hear the honking of angry cars and the faint chatter of people-then again, Central never seemed to sleep.

All the better really, because by the way this paperwork was going he'd never be able to either.

"Yes, thank you Hawkeye. You may leave"

The woman saluted and turned and Roy allowed himself a moment to appreciate her form. It was such a pity that the female uniform was as concealing as the male. Then again, the male uniform was a crime in itself. The ridiculous skirt pants where both impractical in battle and far too concealing of nice, firm, trim behinds.

Male, Female he wasn't picky.

But these uniforms, yes, when Mustang was in charge they'd be the first things to go…_hmm, maybe the fifth or so…_

As the door clicked shut behind her Roy sat back, lifting his feet so they rested on the table and closed his eyes.

Yes, he had quite a lot to do, a lot to plan, and a lot to sort out. Paperwork could wait.

Roy had a country to break down and rebuild.

It was always with regret that he watched her leave; he wished he could inform her of his plans, of his real position in the affairs of Amestris. Roy was sure Hawkeye would be a good addition to his Rebel Fraction; she had a keen mind, a sure aim, and was loyal. But that was the problem-Mustang couldn't risk his men on the off chance she was as dissatisfied with the current ruler as he was. For all he knew as soon as he told her of his traitorous views he'd have a bullet rattling about his skull and a matching hole in his forehead.

Roy knew she probably suspected something-but as long as she didn't act on it he was safe, and so was she. It was with some shame that he admitted that he would kill her as soon as accept her in his ranks. Never had he wanted to be that kind of man, but he knew he would become one if the need arose. If she became a threat she'd be gone, and none would be the wiser, though perhaps a few would wonder at the extra ash in her fireplace.

No, he would not hesitate to protect his men, his ideals, and his plan.

The current Fuhrer would not be as such for too much longer, the country would not be the war mongering state it was, and the people of Amestris would not live in fear.

No, he planed to overthrow it all and set things straight. Roy Mustang was going to give Amestris a chance for a new start, a fresh start-one where Alchemy was not prohibited, where checkpoints did not exist, where curfews where not a hovering threat on the horizon.

A sharp knock at his door had Roy scrambling to get his feet from table as he searched frantically for his pen.

As Hawkeye walked back into his office-arms holding his final pile of work- Roy was sitting dutifully at his desk, reading through yet another paper. Setting the new stack on his desk Hawkeye decided not to mention the page he was reading was upside down.


	2. Chapter 2

**Undercurrents**

Disclaimer: don't own fma-not even any dvds! D':

A/n: this chaps a bit rough, don't have an editer for it, so please excuse any mistakes-please R&R and enjoy!

**Chapter Two:**

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It was with a tired yawn that Roy left his office two hours later. _Damn paperwork will be the death of me_ he thought with another yawn as he pulled his long black jacket closer around himself.

Winter was taunting Autumn with heavy clouds and colder winds. All the bright reds, oranges and golds of the pervious season were slowly being overcome with the dull grays of slushy snow and dead leaves. It seemed the world was slowly draining of colour, and Roy hated it.

Everything was cold, wet, and miserable.

Roy's breath was puffing in visible clouds as he walked briskly along the still crowded streets. His footsteps a steady 'clack, clack, clack' against the sidewalk as he hunched his shoulders against the wind.

The yellow streetlights tried futilely to add cheerfulness to the dull scene-the falsely jolly light reflecting off the wet sidewalk and pooling about his back, shoulders and hair.

Mustang paused beneath the gilded light; pulled out his old pocket watch and flipped open its false lid. Quarter past three, the old style hands read, it's glass facade made brilliant by the brightness. He slipped the solid silver structure back in his pocket, making sure the silver chain was hidden from view before he continued on.

His boys should be getting some new supplies now, there was a military stock house overflowing with blankets, food, and medicines that in exactly ten minuets time should fall into the Rebel Factions possession.

Roy allowed himself to hum happily as a spring entered his step. He loved his job.

A few blocks later he checked his watch again; two minuets and a small group should be entering the warehouse, tying up the guards and emptying the supplies into the awaiting 'military' truck outside.

It was jobs like theses that made Roy's position as Lieutenant Colonel so useful. Know thy enemy and all that cock and bull. Well, Roy Mustang knew the enemy very well, they were on a first name basis in fact, and the information he had gained from it was invaluable.

He'd been able to evacuate the safe-houses uncovered before the military came and stormed them. He'd been able to warn the practicing Alchemists who were discovered, he'd been able to find weak spots in defenses and take advantage of them. Roy chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling almost unheard in his throat. _I guess Paperwork isn't too bad; it's Equivalent Exchange after all. _

Roys quick pace slowed down as the pedestrians began to clog the streets, looking up he saw a checkpoint had been set up on the corner. Another solider in blue spotted him in the crowd and waved him forward, and after flashing the appropriate papers Mustang carried on his way.

It was another thing his job was good for, if he was just a normal citizen he'd have to wait in line and hope his papers hadn't expired. Because of course they had to be renewed fortnightly. It was ridiculous; the hoops the military made civilians jump through.

Roys' hands began to fiddle absently with his watch; a habit he knew he should get out of but found he didn't care enough to.

It was an old State Alchemists watch, its engraved top hidden by a second false one. He knew the risk of carrying it around-but it was that thrill-half danger, half mocking- that made it so much fun.

The position of State Alchemist had of course been abolished years ago alongside with the law prohibiting Alchemy itself.

It was despicable, prohibiting the science so that the people relied on the state even more.

Roy's own teacher had been one of the first to be killed under the law, and from there the numbers rose.

And rose.

And rose.

Hundreds were killed in the first week, because that was how long it took for the Alchemists to realize they couldn't win. That was how long it took for them all to run, to hide.

And in most cases build grudges.

Roy always felt disgust rise like bile in his throat as he remembered that time, he'd been old enough to know what it really meant, nine-and he'd been hiding from the world because he had talent. Talent he, along with the majority of alchemists, planned to use to win back their freedom.

He always wondered what would have happened if everyone had stayed and fought. Would it have changed the outcome? Would the art of Alchemy be taboo as it was now?

Roy shook the thoughts from his head as he always did, too many 'what ifs', he was a man of the present-of the now.

He looked back at his watch. _And right _now _my men should be leaving. _He thought with a smug grin.

Yes, Alchemists where for the people, and now they where killed because of it. But Roy planned to change that. He planned to change a lot of things.

The man looked up from his thoughts as his watch went back to its place in his pocket, _almost home._ Just a few more blocks and he'd be able to open up his cabinet, pour himself a nice stiff drink and wait for the call confirming the successful repossession of supplies.

Yes, today was going to be a good day.

The screeching of tires and the blare of a car horn had Roy diving from the sidewalk as the vehicles wheels reared up the pavement. A moment later sirens wailed and three more cars skidded past in chase.

Roy had the sinking feeling that he wouldn't be getting that call tonight.

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hope ya liked! please review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Undercurrents**

Disclaimer: I don't own any DVD's. Let alone FMA itself D'X

A/n: Just a reminder, this story is **_AU,_** and I'm taking full advantage of the fact. Also, this chapter is not fully edited, so please excuse some mistakes.

Please R&R!

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

Roy ground his teeth together as he pulled himself back to his feet, ripping off his sodden parade gloves and inspecting his grazed palms.

He looked up to where the cars had disappeared around a corner-the sirens still shrieking in the distance and cussed fluently in Xingese.

His men were intelligent people-he knew that they had ability and the gumption to back it up-so why the hell where they being chased by _three _police cars!

Something must have gone wrong-and for a moment he felt a flare of fear for his people's lives, but he knew they could all look after themselves-he wouldn't have accepted them into his ranks if they couldn't.

_Dammit_-they needed those supplies, they had a new safe-house to replace because of the raids last week and he new for a fact that at least three families needed to be housed.

And one of them was Maes Hughes's.

Roy cursed again and forced himself to move on. _Act natural!_ A tiny voice yelled in his head and with a sign he smoothed out the tense position of his shoulders. An easy gait brought him around the corner as he continued his deep breaths.

The streets where almost empty in this residential area, and Roy could hear a child wailing in one of the houses near by, and the faint strains of a mothers answering song. The sound mingled with a soft radio, no doubt listened to by one who could not find sleep-broadcasting in hushed crackling voices. His boots steady steps added another layer of sound, the wet pavement answering each footfall with a textured kiss.

The night was growing more chilled with each passing moment.

Yes, no connections, no concerns, he wasn't affiliated with that fleeing car after all, now was he?

That was what he needed to portray anyway. And it was his ability to put up such calm, indifferent masks that had kept him alive and undetected for so long.

Roy tried to stay as impartial as he could when it came to the safe-houses and families he harbored in them. But he hadn't counted on Maes needing his protection.

Roy had known Maes before any of his usurping plans had been made, or even thought of. They'd both lived in Malun, a small town just east of Resembool where Roy had found his alchemy teacher. During the six years of his tuition, they'd become closer then brothers. Maes had been the town's resident smartass, and Roy the towns little arrogant prick- always ready to whip out a piece of chalk and show off. Together they had exploded a few letter boxes-_ah the good 'ol days!-not that it was THAT long ago- The destruction, the laughs! the scolding!_ They'd been equally hated and loved by the town…and Roy wouldn't have had it any other way.

Chuckling ruefully, he fingered the slim packet of chalk dust hidden in the lining of his coat. _Some things don't change._

His mirth deflated as he looked up to see another Checkpoint being assembled.

_And some things do._

Roy's life had been marvelous, Alchemy until noon, a hearty lunch, and an afternoon of goofing off with his best friend. And then that thrice damned law had been passed.

Malun had always been one of the smaller settlements founded on the outskirts of Amestris. All manner of people had lived their, foreigners from Creta and Xing, refuges from the civil wars of Ishabal, even families from Drachma; a country Amestris had never quite been on friendly terms with, had found a home in the mish-mashed place.

The biggest building had been a library, followed only by the town hall. Many Alchemists had lived there too of course, practically living in the branches of the largest rural library around. At least one practitioner could always be found snoozing under a heavy tome, while another scrounged through the bookshelves madly. Even he had been known to bury his nose in a particularly good text in those cosy corridors of books.

That one law had destroyed that town. The government had used the Alchemists in residence as an excuse to raze _everything_ to the ground. So many people had died…in the ensuing chaos Roy had lost sight of his farsighted friend, and they had never seen each other again.

Until the Military Academy seven years later.

Yes, that had been one meeting neither would forget, drenched with horror and relief as it was. For both of them new that Roy was an Alchemist; and just being in contact with a practitioner was punishable by death.

Roy chucked softly at the memory of Mae's face as his friend tried to decide if he should run away or hug him.

They'd gone through training together; Maes keeping his secret and even using his brilliant mind to help him with his continued studies where he could. The number of books that man had been able to get his hands on with his connections! Especially when all Alchemy texts had supposedly been burnt? Truly mind boggling.

It was around their last years of training when the house raids had started. Random searches aimed to flush out the remaining Alchemists still daring to learn what they could. Maes had been courting a young woman, Gracia around then too.

The combination had almost cost them their lives.

As it turned out, her affections had come with some baggage. Some seriously illegal baggage. Not that any of it was new to Maes. He'd been keeping Mustangs secrets for years after all.

Gracia was talented, having lived in Xing during her childhood; she'd grown quite adept at medical Alchemy. It was her, Roy had found out, who had gotten him the majority of his books.

But as it stood, Roy had only just gotten Maes and his soon to be wife out, before the troops swept the building.

Roy rubbed at the bridge of his nose; he could feel a headache coming on. _Of course, Gracia just HAS to be pregnant now too! Oh no, can't let me miss out on a good excuse for GUILT now can we?_

Roy paused, letting his breath huff out in a great 'woosh' before moving on. _Happy face, happy face-nothing to be worrying about remember! I'm not plotting against the Führer! I'm not worrying about the illegal families I'm sheltering! No, I'm a nice loyal lapdog!_ He reminded himself firmly, plastering his mask firmly back in place.

"Woof woof" he muttered under his breath for good measure.

Shooting a last worried glance over his shoulder (the last he'd allow himself) Roy carried on, shoving his tingling cold fingers back into his pockets.

He'd just find another place to get the supplies from, though he usually tried to refrain from robbing actual businesses. Roy had always preferred stealing from the state. It helped soothe his annoying little honest streak. Maybe it wasn't a _streak_ per say…just a smudge.

Or a spot.

Perhaps a stain…

Rounding the corner in his usual brisk manner, Roy Mustang didn't stand a chance of avoiding the solid mass of a madly sprinting blonde.

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Enter Ed Next chapter the plot starts moving, but this was just some back story. Once again, this story is AU. Some elements will be the familiar, but others I am twisting to work with my plot. Eg Gracia's history.

Hope ya liked!

Cooper


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